


A Love Without End, Amen

by sadtomato



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Cheesy, Emotionally Manipulative, Gen, Kid Fic, M/M, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-14
Updated: 2013-06-14
Packaged: 2017-12-14 22:31:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/842111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadtomato/pseuds/sadtomato
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is ridiculous and cheesy and there isn't really a plot and there's no smut. So. Enjoy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Love Without End, Amen

**Author's Note:**

  * For [donnersun](https://archiveofourown.org/users/donnersun/gifts).



“I’m serious,” Stiles says, kneeling on the bed and bending low to kiss Derek goodbye. “No Pop-Tarts. _Cook_ something for the girls, please.”

“I don’t cook,” Derek mumbles, still half asleep. He reaches up and paws ineffectually at his husband, trying to pull him back into bed. “Don’t leave, make us pancakes.”

“Every week with the whining,” Stiles says, but he has to bite back a smile. “I’m gonna go, babe. Remember, some sort of protein for the kids, Derek. You can do scrambled eggs. Anyone can do scrambled eggs.”

“Mmmkay. Scrambled... mmhmm...” Derek murmurs, pulling Stiles’ pillow to his chest as his eyes drift closed.

Stiles kisses him again, because he can’t resist, and tiptoes out of the room. He peeks in on the girls, hoping they’re still fast asleep, but as soon as he gets the door open they’re both springing out of bed. 

“DADDY!” Maggie says, hopping towards him with energy that only a five-year-old can summon at 8:30 in the morning.

“Morning sweet girl.” Stiles swoops her up into a hug and spins her around swiftly, earning a giggle before he sets her down.

“Me too!” Lina begs, reaching up to be lifted. She’s seven now, and almost too big for Stiles to pick up and swing around like a little kid--a fact that’s slowly breaking his heart. She jumps when he lifts, though, and it still works. He’ll keep lifting as long as she keeps jumping.

“Where’s Daddy?” Lina asks, craning her neck to look past Stiles and into the hallway. Stiles and Derek had a few dozen conversations when Lina was a baby, trying to come up with distinctive nicknames so they could tell which one of them she wanted--Dad? Dada? Papa? She refused to call either of them anything but Daddy, and in the end it worked out just fine--context usually made it pretty clear which Daddy was needed. (“Daddy! Where’s my soccer stuff?” was aimed at Derek, and a shrill “DADDY! I got a boo-boo!” was always intended for Stiles).

“He’s still sleeping, and I’m going to go see Grandpa. Can you guys go back to bed for a while?” Stiles sets Lina back down, and she looks over to Maggie as though they need a moment to confer.

“We can read one more book,” Lina says confidently, taking her little sister’s hand.

“Okay, one more, and then you can go wake Daddy up,” Stiles says. He’s just hoping they wait until he makes it out the front door. 

“Tuck us in, Daddy,” Maggie huffs, crawling up into Lina’s bed. 

Stiles takes a step forward, and then pauses, hands on his hips. Lina nudges Maggie and she looks back up at Stiles, eyes wide.

“Please tuck us in, please, Daddy.”

“I’d be happy to,” Stiles says, smiling. “Good manners, guys. You only have to say it once, but I guess I can’t complain about too many ‘pleases.’”

He tucks the girls into Lina’s bed, surrounds them with blankets and stuffed animals even though he’s sure they’ll be back out of bed before he hits the driveway.

“Love you guys. Let Daddy sleep a little more.”

“Promise,” says Lina, crossing her heart with her index finger.

Stiles is almost to the bottom of the stairs before he hears them running down the hall to rouse Derek.

He doesn’t turn back, though--he’s already running late. He hops into his new Jeep, the improved, safer model he bought when Lina was born, and heads into town to meet his dad for coffee and a greasy breakfast at the diner. It’s not the only time he gets to see his dad, but it’s the only time they really get to spend alone--without his Dad and Derek having to make small talk (much better now than it was ten years ago, but sometimes still awkward), without the girls begging their Grandpa to push them on the swings, without the happy chaos of big holidays with the rest of the pack. 

John is already there when Stiles gets to the diner, and there’s a steaming cup of coffee waiting for him when he sits down.

“Dad, sometimes I feel like you just really _get_ me.” He takes a long slurp and sighs, settling into the booth. “How’s it going? Catch any bad guys?”

“Coupla traffic citations, drunk idiot or two, nothing much this week. How are my granddaughters?”

Stiles grins. “Perfect.”

He tells his dad all about Lina’s soccer team, and the special travelling team she’s going to be a part of in the fall. He talks about Maggie’s dance practice, and her kindergarten evaluation, and how Derek’s been teaching her to tie her shoes. He talks about Derek’s construction business, and how they were able to do some work on the side helping to build a new house for a family who’d lost their home to a fire. He talks about how proud he is, of all of them.

When they say their goodbyes, John hugs Stiles and tells him that he’s proud, too.

Stiles gets home around 10:30 and walks into the house, expecting Derek and the girls to be cuddled up in front of the TV watching cartoons. The living room is quiet, though, and Stiles moves on to the kitchen.

There are three pans in the sink, the black residue of burned food stuck to each. The carton of eggs he bought at the grocery store yesterday is in the trash can, along with three Pop-Tart wrappers. 

“At least he tried,” Stiles murmurs, making a mental note to force some form of healthy food on his family at lunchtime. He fills the sink with soapy water so the pans can soak before he heads upstairs.

“Oh, loving husband?” Stiles calls out, walking past the kids’ room. “Lina? Mags?” They aren’t in the master bedroom, either, although Stiles can tell the kids must have ambushed Derek here--there’s a pile of stuffed animals in the middle of the bed.

He sees a flash of pink through the bedroom window and moves closer, looking down into the backyard. 

The kids are jumping on the trampoline, Derek nervously circling the edge in case they fall off. Maggie’s wearing her tutu and the sequin leotard she wore for her last dance recital, and Lina’s wearing snow pants and a kid-sized AC/DC t-shirt. Derek bought it for her last fall and it’s almost too small, now. They’re both going to cry when she officially outgrows it.

Derek is wearing shorts and a tight t-shirt. And, yeah, of course Stiles takes a minute to appreciate his broad shoulders and the biceps that flex as he lifts Maggie over his head easily.

Lina spots him then, points up at the window and shouts a greeting that he can’t hear. They all smile and wave him down, begging him to join in. 

He jogs down the stairs and into their sunny backyard, ditching his shoes so he can feel the warm grass between his toes.

“Hi Daddy! I’m jumping!” Maggie shrieks, holding tight to her sister’s hand.

“Oh my god! That is an amazing jump,” Stiles says, wiggling under Derek’s arm. 

“Hey,” Derek says, turning his head to kiss Stiles’ cheek. “How’s your dad?”

“He’s great.” Stiles leans in to kiss Derek on the lips. It lasts a little too long, probably, but Stiles is too grateful for Derek right now not to be affectionate.

“Ewwww!” Lina squeals. “Daddy and Daddy, sitting in a tree,” she sings.

“Daddy, get me down,” Maggie says, stumbling to the edge of the trampoline and reaching out for Stiles. “I’m all done.” 

“All done? You wanna go inside?”

“No, I wanna swing!” she pronounces, running for the swingset Derek built two years ago. 

“Me too,” Lina says, bouncing over to Derek so she can be lifted down, too. “Come push me, Daddy!” she yells over her shoulder, even as she’s running away.

“I think she means you,” Derek says, laying his hand flat on Stiles’ back and propelling him forward. 

“That was an all-purpose “Daddy” and you know it. You’re not going back to bed,” Stiles says, turning around and tilting his forehead until it touches Derek’s.

“But... sleep.”

“An excellent argument, I agree. That’s why my Dad’s coming to pick up the girls after lunch--he’s going to take them to see that awful new Disney movie.”

“Both of them?” Derek raises an eyebrow skeptically. 

“Both of them. And then we can take a nap... or whatever.” He rests a hand on Derek’s hip, just for a second, but he’s pretty sure the message gets through loud and clear.

“‘Whatever’, huh?” Derek asks, eyes glowing red for a split second.

“Dad-dies,” Lina whines, pumping her legs fruitlessly on the swing. “Push us!”

“Coming!” Derek calls, and Stiles can’t hold back his smirk. 

“Oh, you will be,” he says, nudging Derek before he turns to jog over to the girls. He looks back over his shoulder to where Derek is still standing next to their trampoline. He’s doing a poor impression of the Derek Hale glare, the look that used to scare the bejesus out of Stiles when he was in high school. 

Derek still tries it once in awhile, but he can’t work up enough rage to make the glare truly effective. He’s just too happy, too well-adjusted, too loved to really pull it off. He breaks after a few seconds, the corners of his mouth twitching into a smile, and joins the rest of the family.

Every day Stiles thinks his heart is going to burst, and every day he finds room for a little more happy--for a kiss from Derek, a quiet talk with Lina, a cuddle from Maggie, or a moment like this with his family, the one he and Derek built from scratch.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from a George Strait song of the same name that I literally found by googling sappy songs about dads. You're welcome, Internet.


End file.
